


Defeat

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Impaired Judgment (and other excuses) [127]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, YCMAL 'verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:54:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27964112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: The Scouts don’t sweep the Flames.
Relationships: OMC/OMC
Series: Impaired Judgment (and other excuses) [127]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/849798
Comments: 14
Kudos: 309





	Defeat

Gabe Markson is as good as his word. Jared’s not the scorer on their line, that tends to be Gabe with the final finesse or Dmitry with the net-front redirect, but Gabe’s passing a lot of pucks he could be shooting, and one of those shots from Jared goes in. Dmitry has the screen, attempts a tip but misses, but thankfully it’s going in anyway. It’s not pretty at all but it feels fucking great anyway. 

Dmitry’s the one fetching the puck this time, getting a couple pokes from the Golden Seals goalie in disgruntled response, and it doesn’t end up being the game-winner, that one’s on Stafford, but it’s the insurance one, the Canucks winning by two once again.

“You’re mailing me the pucks right?” Bryce asks when he calls Jared after the game. 

Jared’s not going to mail him the pucks. That’s stupid. 

“I’ll probably see you before they even get there,” Jared says. “Canada Post takes forever.”

“Just do next-day,” Bryce says. 

“Do you know what next-day delivery costs?” Jared says.

Bryce is laughing at him, and Jared can’t even blame him. He sounds like his dad right now, which: ew. What a thought. He loves his dad, but if he _has_ to start emulating one of his parents as he gets older, as he’s been assured people do, he definitely wants that to be his mom. 

“And what if they get lost in the mail?” Jared asks, which thankfully is more a mom thing than a dad thing to say. “They’re not exactly replaceable.” 

Well, Jared could just wander over to their equipment manager and ask for another game puck — there’s plenty, mostly for selling off to fans purposes — but he expects he’d get a look of grave disappointment that he lost like, career milestones, and Disrepected the Importance Of Equipment — he caught that look from Joseph when Dmitry smashed his stick in frustration after he whiffed on a puck tonight — and also he’d always know they were fake, so. 

“Fuck, didn’t think of that,” Bryce says. “Hold onto those.”

“That was already the plan,” Jared says patiently.

*

The Canucks fly out to Oakland, and Jared watches the Flames game in Gabe’s hotel room, because Jared’s roomie’s having a night in to ‘veg’ — as he is very much not the vegging type Jared’s pretty sure he’s playing injured, or at least tweaked, but he’s not a snitch — and Gabe graciously offered to let Jared squat in his room for the duration of the game. Some of the Canucks are watching it over dinner at the hotel bar, Gabe and Dmitry included, but there’s no way Jared can hide his reactions well enough to swing that, especially if some of them start chirping.

The chirping probably starts early because, as expected, Bryce and Williams are chopping at each other from the get-go. The refs are letting them have at it for now, but Jared wishes they wouldn’t. Not that he wants Bryce in the box, because considering their respective reputations with refs they’d definitely be going after Bryce before Williams, who doesn’t really have a rep, but because he can tell exactly how little either of them are pulling those hacks and whacks and he can practically _see_ the bruises Bryce is getting right now.

Jared texts Elaine during commercial breaks to keep from getting too antsy between shifts, his dad, who’s in the crowd and can tell him about shit the cameras aren’t catching, that happen when the screen cuts to yet another ‘here’s a big fucking truck for a big tough guy like you.’ ad. Apparently there’s been some conversation between the benches, and Bryce was a part of it. He texted Ash a few times during the first but she just replied with exclamation marks, so Jared suspects she is too in her feelings right now to communicate, which is fair enough. 

Jared’s wish for the refs to take off their blinders is granted when they get fed up in the second, but it’s unfortunately in the way he expected it would be — Bryce lands in the box, Williams doesn’t, Casterley bitches at the ref but gets nowhere with it, Scouts score on the power play. Not Williams, at least, or his PP unit, but it’s still infuriating. 

Jared would like to un-make that wish. Bryce is playing fucking _pissed_ after that, throwing his body around, reckless. He hasn’t completely set aside attempting offence or anything, but he’s also gunning for Williams every single time they’re on the ice together, which is — most of the time. It’s a problem, even before Simcoe finishes a hit against Bryce that rides the line between clean and dirty, and definitely lands on the side of late, and Bryce drops the gloves. It’s more a scuffle than a real fight, but Jared watches in despair regardless.

Simcoe doesn’t get the benefit of the doubt Williams does — the refs clearly know exactly how fucking dirty he is — so it’s coincidental minors, except that, after deliberation, they give Bryce an extra minor, and the Scouts are on the power play again.

It’s Williams that scores that one, and Jared is probably seething almost as much as Bryce is.

He catches Bryce’s face when he skates to the bench after his time’s served, and nope: he is nowhere near seething as much as Bryce is, and even if he’d never met Bryce in his life he’d know that, Bryce’s face rigid with fury.

Bryce’s line gets demoted to the second for the remainder of the game, Burns clearly knowing that facing off against Williams’ line isn’t something Bryce should be doing right now. His penalties aren’t the difference maker in the end, since the Scouts win by three, but they were the nail in the coffin, and Jared imagines the media’s going to go after Bryce hard, not to mention his coach.

“Sorry man,” Gabe says when he comes to reclaim his room, clapping Jared on the shoulder. “Tough game to watch.”

That’s a bit of an understatement. 

Jared grabs a quick bite to eat at the hotel bar, since he’d been too nervous to eat dinner properly, checks the time every few minutes until he knows Bryce has gone through the coaching staff team pissed media bullshit gauntlet, and tries to find somewhere properly secluded to call him, since Carter’s still recuperating in their room.

“You watch,” Bryce asks, like Jared would miss it.

“I watched,” Jared says. “That stuff with Williams and Simcoe—”

“Don’t tell me to stay out of the box,” Bryce says. “Everyone’s already told me to stay out of the box.”

“Stay out of the box, Bryce!” Jared says.

“He insulted my _mom_ ,” Bryce says. “My _mom_ , Jared.”

“Which is totally uncool,” Jared says, annoyed on Elaine’s behalf. “Except now he knows it works and he’s going to keep doing it. They need you on the ice.”

“I know,” Bryce sighs.

“And if you keep landing in the box you know they’re going to make a narrative about that no matter what else you do in the playoffs,” Jared says. “No matter how many goals you score, how many points you get, it’ll be ‘Marcus kept us from winning by taking stupid penalties’.”

“I know that!” Bryce snaps, then, immediately, “Sorry.”

“Venting round two?” Jared asks.

Venting round two is a go.

*

The Scouts don’t sweep the Flames.

Bryce will, however, be in Vancouver for the Canucks’ Game Five, having practically jumped off the plane from Kansas City and right onto one to Vancouver, only cramming in a night of sleep closer in length to a nap, and half of media day — Summers is probably furious Bryce cut out early, not to mention the Flames management — and by the time Jared gets back from the gym to change into a suit for pre-game Bryce is sitting in the kitchen with Elaine, looking tired, worn out.

“Hey,” Bryce says, and Jared hopes Elaine doesn’t care about PDA because she’s getting it, Jared walking over and wrapping his arms around Bryce’s shoulders, burying his face in his hair.

“Sorry,” Jared says. He’s said it a lot since the Flames trudged off the ice last night, but it merits saying again.

“I think I left my phone upstairs,” Elaine says, in a completely transparent bid to give them privacy, and Jared straightens up just long enough to let Bryce stand up so he can hug him properly.

“Sorry,” Jared repeats, this time into Bryce’s neck as Bryce gives him a crushing hug that probably hurts both of them, not that Jared’s pulling away. “I’m so sorry, Bryce.”

“Everything fucking sucks right now but coming home so I’m just—” Bryce says, and Jared holds him tighter. He’s pretty sure Bryce is crying, and Jared never knows what to do when Bryce cries. He figures the best he can do is just hold on right now, that there’s nothing he can say to make shit better, so that’s what he does, holds on until Bryce is more slumped into him than hugging back.

“I gotta go change,” Jared says reluctantly. He doesn’t want to leave Bryce like this, but he really doesn’t have much choice. The only salve is that Elaine’s here, and she probably knows exactly what to do.

“I know,” Bryce says, letting him go. His eyes are red, and it makes Jared want to punch someone in the face. “Let me pick out your suit?”

“Sure,” Jared says. Anything to help him feel better, and it does seem to, Bryce pairing a suit with a tie Jared wouldn’t have thought to pair it with, though they look surprisingly good together. 

“Didn’t think it’d be a good idea to be in the crowd,” Bryce says apologetically as Jared gets ready to leave, and it absolutely would not be — Jared can’t imagine what the reaction would be if Bryce was seen watching a rival team’s playoff game in a whole other province after cutting out of his own media day, hometown or not. “Mom and I are gonna go to grandma and grandpa’s, watch it with them.”

It’s a comfort knowing Bryce is at least going to be surrounded by family, both tonight and if Jared has to leave town — which, knock on wood, isn’t going to happen. 

“Win it?” Bryce says

“Do my best,” Jared says, reeling him in again, and he’s borderline late when he gets to Rogers Place but thankfully just on the edge so he gets a few looks but nothing more than that.

Sometimes nights just don’t go a team’s way, and it’s very much one of those nights for the Canucks. No lack of effort, no real mistakes, just shit luck for them, great luck for the Golden Seals. They could have clinched it tonight, but instead they’ve got to go back to Oakland again, and Jared’s feeling exhausted and battered and wrung out when he gets home to Bryce looking exactly how he feels, except ten times worse.

“Sorry,” Bryce says.

“Bad game,” Jared says. 

“Yeah,” Bryce says.

“Wanna go to bed?” Jared asks. “You look wiped.”

“Yeah, but—” Bryce says. “Still early for you.”

“I’m just going to drink a protein shake then I’m probably good to like, lie down for as long as possible,” Jared says.

Bryce sits in the kitchen while Jared does that — just a normal one, no smoothie, since Elaine’s gone to bed, follows him upstairs, taking turns brushing their teeth, Bryce’s thumb rubbing over one of Jared’s pucks when he gets into their room.

“You were right,” Bryce says. “Probably wouldn’t have even gotten them before I flew here.”

Jared chews his lip.

“I know you had a shitty night tonight,” Bryce says quietly. “But I had a few drinks and I’m right now I’m super tempted to just — find the nearest bar and down a dozen shots and hunt down the like, one Scouts fan in Vancouver and punch them in the fucking face, so can you—”

“What do you need?” Jared asks. “Whatever you need.”

What Bryce needs is to curl up around Jared and be very still and quiet and miserable for awhile, and Jared stays very still and quiet and miserable on his behalf.

“You were really good,” Jared says.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Bryce says. 

“Okay,” Jared says.

“I don’t think I can talk about it yet,” Bryce revises.

“Okay,” Jared says, turning in Bryce’s loose grip to kiss his neck, can feel Bryce’s pulse hammering under his lips, far too fast considering they’ve been lying in bed for half an hour. Like Bryce has been in his head that entire time, going over everything. Jared doesn’t know how to help, wishes he did.

“I don’t,” Bryce says.

“Don’t what?” Jared says, when Bryce says nothing else.

“I don’t know,” Bryce mumbles.

“Okay,” Jared says. “That’s okay.”

“They’re going to blame it on me,” Bryce says. “I did fucking everything to try to win those games.”

“I know you did,” Jared says.

“They’re going to blame it on me,” Bryce says, and Jared can’t say anything, because he knows Bryce isn’t wrong. Knows Bryce cutting out early is going to add ammunition to a campaign of condemnation that’s completely out of proportion to what Bryce deserves. Penalties to Bryce resulted in three Scouts goals. He also scored five of the nine goals the Flames managed to get against the Scouts, scored two, including the game-winner, in the only game the Flames won. It isn’t on him, the Flames were up against a juggernaut that they couldn’t figure out how to beat, but that’s not what the narrative’s going to be.

“I’m sorry,” Jared whispers, which feels totally inadequate, but it’s all he can think to say. He hates this. He hates this so much, hurting for Bryce, not being able to do shit about it because he doesn’t know how in the little ways, and with the big things, the team, the media, the bitter taste of a loss, there’s nothing he can do. 

“Can we—” Bryce says. “I don’t want — I fucking hate being inside my head right now.”

“You want—” Jared says, gets a wordless nod. 

Bryce’s mouth tastes like mint, no trace of anything alcoholic left, and it starts slow, almost — defeated, which is not a word Jared would like to think about in relation to Bryce’s feelings about kissing him, but Jared can practically feel the moment Bryce disconnects from what’s probably a litany of not great thoughts and like, selfishly, Jared hasn’t gotten off with Bryce in awhile, and he’s twenty-one, so tired or not, loss or not, it _really_ doesn’t take long before Jared’s dick is very invested in these proceedings, and thankfully it is conspicuously evident that’s mutual when he’s rolling onto his back, pulling Bryce on top of him, the weight almost comforting but also like — in a sexy way? Can there be something that’s comforting in a sexy way?

There’s enough light filtering in from the street lamps to see the way Bryce’s body’s coloured when they kick off shirts, underwear. Bryce isn’t bruised as badly as Jared worried he’d be, but he isn’t unscathed either, Jared can tell that even in the dimness, and he makes sure to be careful, not touch him anywhere too hard, hold anywhere too tight, gentle even with Bryce’s hair when Bryce slides down his body, petting it back instead of pulling even though Bryce likes it. He’s a little crueler to his own body, teeth digging into his palm, because Bryce is very good at this and Jared is very, very aware that Elaine’s room is right down the hall, and the walls aren’t that thick.

Bryce is just as careful with Jared after Jared catches his breath, moves to reciprocate, hands carefully kept to himself even though he doesn’t need to, Jared pretty well shielded by his linemates, the D-corps out on the ice, not completely unscathed, but as close as he could possibly be after five games against a checking line, and apparently the sleeping eating breathing hockey has infiltrated Jared’s sex life and that’s bad and he needs to go back to focusing on sucking his husband’s dick. He does so.

“Thanks,” Bryce mumbles after, when they’ve pulled the blankets up. Jared has never been more grateful to Bryce for buying that new mattress for Elaine’s, because cramming together into Bryce’s old bed would have been a very dumb thing to do when Bryce is battered and Jared’s still got playoff games to play.

“Such an imposition to get my dick sucked,” Jared says, and Bryce snorts, getting all octopus limbs, wrapping himself around Jared in a way Jared knows is going to end up with him waking up too hot and a little claustrophobic, but he doesn’t do anything but kiss Bryce’s temple, shut his eyes.

“Thanks,” Bryce murmurs again when Jared’s drifting, post-endorphin sleepy, a thread of honesty in his voice that has Jared feeling like a joke right now isn’t the way to go.

“Sleep, babe,” Jared says. Bryce does, and Jared wakes up at three in the morning, sweating and uncomfortable, but he makes sure to disentangle himself as carefully as possible so Bryce can go on sleeping, then falls back asleep himself.


End file.
